Kennedy opened the second folder and handed the President a fresh set of documents.

"It turns out General Moro is not such a good ally after all. We didn't know it at the time, but he was a very active advocate of kicking the U.S. Navy out of Subic Bay. He wields great influence in a country where bribes are a way of life. We found several bank accounts, one in Hong Kong and the other in Jakarta. It looks like the general has been in the pocket of the Chinese for the better part of the last decade, and more recently we think he began extorting protection money from Abu Sayyaf."

Jones scoffed at the idea.

"You mean to tell me that a bunch of peasants running around in the jungles over there can scrape up enough money to bribe a general in the Philippine army?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," replied an even-keeled Kennedy.

"That's one of the most ludicrous things I've ever heard."

Kennedy resisted the urge to tell Jones that if she'd paid attention to her intelligence briefings she'd know that the idea was far from ludicrous.

People in Washington had long memories and another thing Thomas Stansfield had taught her was to avoid making it personal.

"Abu Sayyaf is not just some poor group of peasants. They receive millions in funding from various Muslim groups throughout the Middle East. Much of it comes from Saudi Arabia."

The President did not want to get into that mess right now so he focused his gray eyes on General Flood and asked, "Was General Moro informed by us of any aspect of the rescue mission prior to it being launched?"

"No," answered Flood.

"For reasons that are all too apparent, the plan was to keep the Philippine army in the dark until we were on our way out with the Andersons." Flood shrugged.

"We didn't trust them enough to bring them in on it and if we didn't ask for permission, they couldn't say no."

The chief of staff rolled her eyes and said, "I'd hate to think what the U.S. Army would do if a foreign country conducted a military operation on American soil without our permission."

Rapp leaned forward, almost coming out of his chair entirely and looked angrily at Jones.

"They wouldn't have to, because we'd never allow a group of terrorists to kidnap foreign citizens in the United States. We'd go kick the door down and solve the problem before you even had enough time to collect polling data."

Jones stood and crossed her arms defiantly.

"Mr. Rapp, we're all aware that you are predisposed to using violence to solve a problem, but I would like to ask you where that has gotten us?" Not giving him a chance to reply she continued, "Our list of allies is shrinking. These little operations that you are so fond of have alienated some of our strongest supporters. The Filipinos are going to make some serious hay out of this, our own State Department is going to be livid -with us for spying on them, and not letting them do their jobs, and before this is over"-she angrily pointed at Rapp-"you mark my words, there will be a congressional investigation into whose bonehead idea this whole thing was."

The blood rushed to Rapp's face, though he was too tan for it to be apparent to the others in the room. He stood to face Jones eye to eye. It took all his self-control to speak somewhat evenly.

"Valerie, you have great political instincts, but you are an absolute moron when it comes to issues of national security. Your ideas are dangerous, your logic is flawed and nothing I've heard you say here today is based on sound moral judgment."

"Moral judgment?" she asked snidely.

"You're going to lecture me on morality?"

The implication was clear. Rapp was a killer and thus should forfeit his right to judge. He ignored her condescension and said, "Here are the facts' Valerie. A family of American citizens was on vacation and were kidnapped by a well-known terrorist group that is a self-admitted sworn enemy of the United States. We now know that the Philippine general in charge of freeing those hostages is taking bribes from the terrorists who hold them. We know that a decision was made to use U.S. Special Forces to free the hostages. That decision was completely legal and made by none other than the commander in chief." Rapp pointed at the President.

"Part of those operational orders were that neither our embassy in the Philippines nor the Philippine government were to be informed of the rescue operation. Two senior State Department officials willingly disregarded those orders and as a direct result a platoon of SEALs was ambushed on a beach two nights ago."

With her arms folded defiantly across her chest, Jones asked, "Are you done?"

Rapp strained to keep from reaching out and slapping her. With a clenched jaw he replied, "No. This morning while you were yapping on your cell phone and picking up your triple mocha frappuccino, or whatever the hell it is that you drink, a cargo plane landed out in San Diego. Do you know what it was carrying?"

Jones glared at Rapp with unvarnished hatred. No one, not even the President, had ever spoken to her this way.

"No."

"Two flag-draped caskets. Valerie. Rapp help up his fingers.

"There were little kids, wives, and some grandparents there to meet those caskets.

Their lives are turned upside down. The men they loved, the men they adored, the men they idolized are gone forever. They are feeling pain right now that you can't even begin to understand, and all because a couple of self-important bureaucrats over at the State Department couldn't keep their damn mouths shut!" Rapp's eyes were filled with rage.

"If I had it my way' Valerie I'd march Ambassador Cox and Assistant Secretary Petry out in front of a firing squad and have them shot."

Jones flapped her arms and roared, "I can't believe I'm hearing this." She looked around for someone to second her opinion, but no one backed her up. Dumbfounded, she looked back at Rapp and said, "I think you've lost it."

"I lost it a long time ago' Valerie and I could give a rat's ass what you think of me. I've been on that beach thousands of miles away. I've crawled out of the surf wondering if I'm going to catch a bullet right between the eyes." Rapp marked the spot with his index finger.

"I've seen a helicopter filled with young men blown from the sky because an arrogant senator couldn't keep his mouth shut."

Jones's arms were again folded across her chest and in a disinterested tone she said, "I'm well aware of what you've done for a living."

Rapp stood with his feet firmly planted, seething with anger.

"I can take a lot of crap from people, Valerie, but one thing I can't stand is a lack of gratitude. I'm one of those guys on the beach getting shot at, trying to do the right thing, risking it all for love of country, duty and honor. Words that mean nothing to you. I've been there and you haven't." He pointed at her.

"No Starbucks coffee, no dinners at Morton's, no warm baths. Just a lot of bugs, salty MREs and the comforting thought that there are a lot of self-centered Americans who will never be able to appreciate the sacrifice you've made.

"So, yeah, I guess I've lost it a bit," Rapp said in a calmer voice, "and that's why I'm not going to let you protect those arrogant assholes over at the State Department. The CIA had Ames, the FBI had Hanssen and now the State Department is going to have Cox and Petry. Things are going to get real uncomfortable for the Ambassador and the under Secretary, and that piece of shit General Moro is going to get his, I can promise you that."

Jones still stood defiantly and asked for a second time, "Are you done?"

Rapp's face actually broke into a smile. He looked at the President for a moment. Hayes was notorious for letting his aides battle it out.

His motto was that he'd rather get it all out in the open than let it fester under the surface.